The man scoffed at her plea. "A Ministry minion was starving? How I seriously doubt it." He reached underneath a bottom shelf, to a toolbox. The man said: "Let's see if we can find the truth somewhere inside of you."
Rebecca watched him extract an archaic wood saw and a metal chisel. "Please, I'm no longer with the Ministry. They're trying to find me—actually—I'm a fugitive!"
"A Ministry Fugitive," said the man while sounding amused, "can't say I heard that one before. How lucky for me. A Ministry fugitive just so happened to walk into my store by accident."
"It was an accident!" Rebecca shouted. "It's the truth! I've been running for two days. It's a long story but my mother told me to come down to the Southern Point. She said to find a man named Rawling; that he would put me in contact with my father! Please, I don't want trouble for anyone. I just want to find my father!"
For the first time, the man seemed to be more puzzled than angry. "Who's your father?"
"His name is Corbin Byrne. I've never actually met him before," Rebecca continued. "He and my mother had an illegal affair. That's why I'm a fugitive. The Ministry found out and now they're after me."
The man appeared to be stunned by what he was hearing. "What's your name?"
"Rebecca Badeau. Please, I just want to find my father. Please don't hurt me. I'll pay you for the torte."
"Forget the damn torte!" the man said, agitated now. "Enough with these lies! Why are you really here? Do you think I harbor Corbin Byrne?"
"You know him?" Rebecca said, shocked.
The man returned the saw and chisel to the toolbox and slid it back. He then stood upright and began to circle Rebecca. "Who's this mother of yours?"
"Francesca Badeau. Do you know my father?"
The man stopped in front of her, his hands swallowed her face. He tilted her head back and drew closer. His nose was only inches away from hers. He appeared to be examining her facial features. He then gave a satisfied nod and released her. "You look like Francesca," the man said. "If this is an MSF trick then it's the best I've seen."
Rebecca didn't understand what he meant. "An MSF trick?"
The man acted as if he didn't hear her. "No matter, you won't have the opportunity to tell anyone. You're existence in The Collective is done."
"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you know my father, or this Rawling guy, then I'm sure—"
"Enough!" the man hissed. "Stop pretending this was an accident. You know who I am. It's why you're here. Of course you want to find Corbin Byrne. Everyone in the MSF wants to know where he is. But don't worry—you'll get your opportunity." He pulled Rebecca onto her feet and unlocked the door before shoving her through.
"Aren't you going to untie me?" she called out after hitting the glass case that once contained the torte.
"And let you try to escape?" said the man. He walked up to the store's front entrance and locked it tight.
"Escape? Where am I going to go?" Rebecca argued. "Look at how I'm dressed! If you would just contact Rawling, or my father, then maybe we can clear all of this up. You obviously know them."
"Enough of your lies," said the man angrily. "If you say anything else, then I'll force your mouth shut." He then pushed her toward the back of the store. They passed through a large kitchen with several baking ovens and stopped at a backdoor that led outside.
"Can I at least have a coat? I'll freeze!"
The man, who had just put on a thick temperature controlled jacket, considered her plea. He grabbed Rebecca by the arm and pulled her to another door. It opened into a small closet with several jackets hanging up. He pulled one off a hanger and wrapped it around her shoulders. Rebecca noticed too—for the first time—that the man had both of her bags slung over his shoulders. "Get moving," he said and opened the back door.
The sun was beginning to set outside and the temperature felt like it had dropped at least another five degrees. Even though Rebecca had a coat on over her shoulders she was freezing again. "Where are we going?"
The man gave her a hard nudge and said: "I'm warning you, not another peep."
The two of them walked for about fifteen minutes before coming to an old rundown manufacturing facility. Rebecca didn't like the sight of it. There were no windows and the roof was half collapsed. The man shoved open a large rusty door that gave a loud squeal. He ordered her through and then slammed it shut, engulfing them in darkness.
"Who goes there?!" shouted an unseen voice.
"It's Rawling!" the man shouted back. "I have a spy with me!"
Rebecca jerked her head toward the brute and said: "Why didn't you tell me?"
Rawling didn't answer.
A clank echoed, followed by a thud. A skinny, hunched over man came walking up to them. The top of his head was bald and he had a few teeth missing. "What do we have here?" he said. "The MSF trying to seduce us now?" He gave a repulsive smile.
Rawling pulled her to his side and said: "She claims to be Byrne's daughter. She says her mother is Francesca Badeau."
The skinny man's face contorted with mystery. "The MSF knows about Francesca?"
"Apparently," Rawling said. "She claims she's a fugitive and that she's running because the MSF found out the truth."
The skinny man circled Rebecca while eyeing her up and down. "She certainly has Francesca's—beauty." He licked his scabbed lips and winked.
Rawling snatched the skinny man by the jacket and said: "Careful Morgan. Let's not jump to conclusions before we know what we have here."
Morgan, who was hanging helplessly from Rawling's powerful hand, said: "Alright, alright; I was just giving the lass a compliment!"
Rawling shoved him away. Morgan stumbled a few feet back and said: "Take it easy!"
"You take it easy. If you lay a single breath on her, and this girl is who she says she is, then you'll have a real problem on your hands."
"But if she isn't?" Morgan asked after adjusting the collar of his jacket.
"Then she's all yours. I don't think I could come up with a worse punishment for an MSF spy."
"I'm not a spy!" Rebecca shouted.
"We'll soon find out," Morgan said and then licked his lips again.
The three of them walked through the large abandoned room and toward a set of metal stairs. Morgan led them down the stairs and into the ground. The whole place appeared to be on its last leg. Rebecca couldn't figure out how a group working in such a dilapidated building could manage to avoid capture by the MSF.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she was given her answer.
There was another, much younger, and more fit looking man holding a rather large burn rifle. He placed it on the ground and leaned it against the wall so that he could remove a hatch in the floor. It wasn't immediately visible to Rebecca, but once he ran his hands along the edge, the hatch suddenly became apparent. There were several sensors that the man's fingertips passed through that seemed to unlock it. The room echoed with a few loud clicks and a single clank. The young man pressed down on it with all his weight and the hatch sunk several inches before rising back up, just high enough to get his fingers underneath. He then lifted it so that the hatch swung open, revealing a long ladder leading into a black abyss. The young man raised his right hand to his mouth and said: "1A lights."
The black abyss was no more as light filled the void. Rebecca could see that the ladder shaft led to another hall about twenty yards down. Rawling gestured for Morgan to go first. The skinny bald man grunted and winked before making the plunge down the ladder. "You're next," Rawling ordered and then removed the rope from her wrists. Rebecca was too frightened to argue. She swung her legs inside and climbed down. Above her, she could see Rawling's massive body squeeze into the shaft just before the hatch closed.
At the bottom, Rebecca found Morgan waiting for them inside the short hall that ended at a large heavy looking metal door. The three of them walked up to the massive door and stopped. Morgan stood center aligned in front of it and looked up toward the top. There was a
beep and the door clicked. Rawling shoved a large meaty forearm into it and the door swung open, revealing a very high-tech looking chamber with people seated at many workstations.
"What in the world is all of this?" Rebecca gasped.
"Step inside," ordered Rawling.
Rebecca followed Morgan in and then stopped. The room was buzzing with movement and sounds. Each workstation appeared to be busy with life—with activity. Voices echoed off the walls and conversations could be overheard.
"Go back to your post," Rawling said to Morgan.
"Are you kidding me?" he protested. "No way! If she's MSF then I'm claiming my prize."
Rawling gave him a chilling glare. "Go back now. If she's MSF then I'll hand deliver her to you."
Morgan frowned—clearly disappointed—but found enough hope to wink at Rebecca. "See you soon, honey."
Rebecca's body went rigid. Not in your life. Just the mere thought of having that man—it was too much to finish. Rawling grabbed her arm again and directed her toward another hall to their left. "Let's go."
He led her into a room where two others appeared to be working: one man and one woman sitting on hard plastic chairs at a computer terminal. "Who's this?" the woman asked with surprise. She had long dark curly hair, pulled back and pinned. Rebecca thought the woman was rather beautiful. The man was tall with a slender build. His head was shaved and his face had rugged but handsome features. "What have you brought us, Rawling?"
"Someone who needs tested," Rawling answered. He relayed their story to the couple: how he found Rebecca stealing food and the claims she made. When he was finished, the woman agreed to test Rebecca and brought over a scanner that looked similar to the ones the MSF used in order to identify people. She took Rebecca's right wrist and ran the scanner across it.
It beeped when it was finished. The woman read the results aloud: "Rebecca Badeau – 1204822-391. It appears she is who she says."
"It could have been planted," argued Rawling.
"Possibly," the taller man replied. "We could always do other tests. We could read her DNA in order to see if it matches Corbin's."
"Do it," Rawling said.
The curly haired woman picked up another scanner and placed it over Rebecca's right index finger. The machine heated up and became very warm on her skin. Its cord was attached to the computer terminal and the monitor refreshed with gathering results. After a few minutes, the screen told them that the DNA extraction was complete and ready to be analyzed. The woman punched in a few keys and ran a cross examination between Rebecca's and Corbin's DNA. After another few minutes the test came back positive. "Extraordinary," the woman said.
"It appears she's telling the truth," the tall man said.
Rawling still didn't look convinced. "The MSF are getting better and better at making phonies. I want to do one more test in order to see, once and for all, whether she is who she says she is."
"What do you have in mind?" the woman asked.
A few minutes later, Rebecca was seated at the computer terminal next to the curly haired woman. They were watching a screen that read: Confirming Security Lock. The screen then refreshed and read: Security Confirmed. Contacting . . . After a few seconds a woman's face appeared. She said: "I only have a minute or two."
Rebecca couldn't believe her eyes. "Mother?"
The woman staring back at her through the screen was Francesca Badeau. She seemed just as shocked to see her daughter. "What on earth are you doing on this line?"
"I should ask you the same thing."
Francesca suddenly appeared to understand. "You went to the Southern Point."
"Mother, what's going on? These people almost killed me!"
Francesca frowned and said: "Is Rawling with you? If he is, put him on right now!"
Rebecca turned around and saw the giant man lean in. "I'm here."
"What's the meaning of all this? What have you done to my daughter?"
Rawling, who had seemed so menacing for the past hour, was looking like a scared puppy. "Nothing, I swear! I didn't know who she was. I caught her stealing food in my shop. I thought she was MSF!"
"Well she's not!" Francesca practically shouted. "You now have your proof."
Rebecca was so confused. She couldn't grasp everything that was transpiring. "Mother, what's going on? Where are you? Are you okay? Have they—"
"Rebecca, darling," Francesca said with a quick smile, "I can't talk any longer. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. You're in good hands—right Rawling?"
"Yes, of course," Rawling stammered.
"But I don't understand," Rebecca blurted out.
"Rawling will explain it. Good-bye darling. I love you." She then terminated the transmission.
Rebecca sat there, speechless.
"Looks like you have your confirmation," said the curly haired woman.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rawling escorted Rebecca from the control room and down a long, narrow tunnel, descending deep into the earth. He did what Francesca had ordered him to do: he explained everything—at least everything he understood. "The Ministry only knows us as the Heretique, which is a damnation on their part. They've completely altered history so that we—the Free People's Society—look like villains; when in reality: they are the ones committing crimes against humanity. I don't know how far back it goes—if The First Time is accurate in the slightest—but I do know that the tyranny you work for—excuse me—worked for—is guided on one solitary motive: to enslave everyone in The Collective."
"Rubbish," argued Rebecca. "We aren't slaves."
"Oh no? Then tell me, little Byrne, how free are you to make decisions? Can you marry anyone you please? Can you choose any career?"
Rebecca wanted to argue but resisted; it would have been futile and she wanted to know more about the Free People's Society, particularly about her parents' involvement with them.
"So as I was saying: the Ministry suppresses The Collective because they're scared. The Ministry knows something we don't—well, that I don't—and are afraid of it: whatever it is. Some say that it's the people united together, that the Ministry knows that once the people unite, there will be no need for them. Others say that it's a person in particular: a Messiah they call him. To me, the word doesn't mean much—but to them, these people—it's hope—and to the Ministry, it's fear. And for that, I welcome him. The Free People need someone to fight the evil ruling the land, someone to lead us from the Vriezen—back to the land we once knew." Rawling stopped walking. He looked at Rebecca with the utmost seriousness. "They say that the Minister is beyond evil: that he is pure concentrate iniquity. Growing up, I heard tales about his wickedness, about how he . . . tortured people . . . for pleasure. Some of the old sages used to say that he never dies, while others say that he's reborn after each death."
"That's common talk," said Rebecca. "Lower-tiered people say such things—they believe in such things, but that doesn't make any of it true."
Rawling eyed her for a long moment before walking again. "Well, I can tell you that these common folk also believe that a woman would one day deliver a powerful weapon to the Free People." He looked toward her workbag. Rebecca's eyes matched his. "I don't know what you have inside there, or what your future holds, but I think there might be a little truth in all of those stories. I mean; they have to come from somewhere—don't they?"
Rebecca didn't know what to say: Do they?
"Anyway, the Free People's Society has been living in hiding for all of these years, waiting for someone—something—to deliver us. During that time, people from all tier levels, all walks of life, have been migrating here—or secretly swearing allegiance from within the Collective—in order to aid the Free People's Society in one day finding their freedom from tyranny. Your mother and father joined the society over thirty years ago. Your father has rose through the ranks and is now the closest thing the Free People have to a leader."
That wasn't what Rebecca wanted to hear.
"And your mother
is one of our most important insiders into the Ministry—"
"Because of me," she said bitterly.
Rawling looked as if he never considered it before. "That may be so. Quite frankly, little Byrne, you're somewhat of a myth. We all knew you existed, but none of us had ever seen you before. It was forbidden by your father. We know next to nothing about you. I guess it could have been suspected that you worked within the Ministry, but no one knew for sure—at least I didn't."
"Are you taking me to him: my father?" asked Rebecca.
Rawling nodded and said: "Of course. Isn't that why you're here?"
It damn well was. Going to the Heretique and trading her father in to the Ministry seemed like the only option left. Rawling was going to deliver Rebecca to her freedom. "So where is he?"
"He's on the other side—in the Vriezen. He helped shape it into the community it is today. You should be very proud; he's a remarkable man, your father is."
Proud was hardly the word to describe Rebecca's feelings toward her father. He was a prominent member of an underground group that had been waging war with the Ministry for hundreds of years. She felt nothing but hatred toward the man: ever since her mother had revealed their secret. My mother, thought Rebecca. She had never felt so betrayed in all her life. My mother is a spy. Every revealing conversation she had with Francesca flooded her memory.
Rebecca suddenly felt light headed. "I think I need to sit," she said to Rawling as she leaned up against the wall and slid down to the ground.
Rawling looked concerned and asked: "Are you okay?"
Rebecca shook her head. "She's using me."
It was clear that Rawling didn't know what to say. What could he say? That it was for the greater good? That was Ministry speak—something he knew better to utter. So, in return, he simply stood there: incapable of comforting her. "We should keep moving," he said after a moment.
Rebecca looked up at him, her eyes shrink wrapped in tears, and nodded. "You're right. I mustn't keep father waiting." She stood and dusted off her pants. She was cold despite the coat given to her by an older woman back at the command center. "Are we supposed to walk to the Vriezen?"
The Sinner King: Book of Fire Page 27